


Road to Dead

by rivlee



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, Spartacus: Afterlife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-23
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:20:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Major Spoilers for War of the Damned, Episode Eight</b>. Old friends meet beyond the pale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Road to Dead

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, apparently I'll be writing a whole series of Afterlife Adventure Ficlets. No one should be surprised.

“There is no breath you need to gasp for, you stupid fuck,” a familiar voice greeted Crixus. He put his hand to the intact skin of his throat. His head remained attached to his shoulders, yet no pulse beat under his flesh.

He was dead; truly dead, not at the threshold like he thought so many times in the past. He expected a hero’s welcome and instead got Barca. He squinted; and Auctus.

“You, who just recently cursed the very gods, who love to punish hubris, honestly expected more,” Auctus said. He pouted as he shook his head. “Still so much to teach you, you stupid fucking Gaul.”

Crixus groaned. “No, he is too much. Should you not have Pietros at your side instead of that worthless Grecian shit?”

Auctus huffed. “He gets _one_ good stab in, and suddenly I’m worthless. It’s not like I proceeded to beat him most of that fight.”

“He did get the final blow,” Barca said. “You pranced around too much. I warned you about such.”

Auctus held up a hand. “I did not prance; I made calculated movements to intimidate my opponents.”

“So, you pranced,” Barca said. 

Crixus was recently come to death; he still had the image of Naevia’s blood and tear-stained face in his heart, so it was understandable that there was some confusion. He did not imagine death was supposed to be like this. Where was Charon? He did not anticipate finding himself in Elysium, but he did expect more than two long-dead gladiators. The Asphodel Meadows did not seem out of his reach.

“Men without a country to call their own find themselves here. We were not Romans when we died, on Roman soil, with the tongue of Romans gods in our mouths. We wait here, until our time comes to pass on to whatever Afterlife best fits. Some of us wait for tasks,” Auctus said.

“Tasks?” Crixus questioned.

Auctus and Barca exchanged a sad look. Barca nodded and seemed to fade back as Auctus came forward. The man crouched down in front of him, and Crixus suddenly remembered the old arena, and those eyes staring at him as he took his first life.

“Pietros believed in his gods. He died without means to the pay the Ferryman. He is one of the lost souls, and we must go through the various worlds to find him. Barca has been waiting for worthy companions. He should’ve had your Varro, but there _complications_ after he ripped apart Gnaeus’ shade.”

“Nothing less than the fuck deserved,” Barca growled. His voice sounded inhuman. Of course, Crixus should’ve expected as much for a man made a ghost three years ago. 

Crixus shook his head. “Other old friends have passed before me.”

“We could not ask Oenomaus to join in this task; he needed to have words with Melitta. We would not ask it of Rhaskos, who never cared much for Pietros.”

“I ask it of you,” Barca said. He crouched down beside Auctus and his eyes bore into Crixus’ own. “One last fight for an old friend.”

“I must wait for Naevia,” Crixus said. He promised to walk with her in any life, and he would hold to that vow.

“Time passes differently here,” Barca said. “A month up there is years this time.” He held out his hand. “You do not have to take it. I can wait for another; we’ve been watching you and there are a few I would ask, even though they know me not.”

“We figured it might be easier for your transition,” Auctus said. “You still yearn to fight, and yet have no enemy to beat.”

The words were a taunt veiled as understanding; Crixus should’ve guessed such words would come from Auctus. It still felt like too much of an insight into the fears that now clouded his mind. He claimed not to fear death, or the end, and yet now faced with the nothingness; Crixus feared the lack of action, and the loneliness. 

He took Barca’s hand. “Shall we begin?”


End file.
